


Thirst Tweets and Pink, Fuzzy Handcuffs

by Beewachan



Series: Series 2: Second Generation Captains [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crack, Crude Humor, M/M, Second gen captains, futashira were on a break for a while during this okay, that’s what i say when there are inconsistencies that id like to ignore ahahahha, this is an extension to the spice girls series but donesnt have to be read with it and vice versa, twitter causes problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 05:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17258534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beewachan/pseuds/Beewachan
Summary: “We discovered that our good friend — you know, the other ex-captain who joined our group chat later our senior year and isn’t here right now — has a shitpost account on Twitter, and we’re hoping to stage an intervention,” Chikara uses the gravest of voices he has.“Wait, so, like, you guys didn’t know about Usuri’s shitpost account?” Atsumu asks with his Dumb Blond Voice and immediately receives nine accusatory glares.





	Thirst Tweets and Pink, Fuzzy Handcuffs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crocustongues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crocustongues/gifts).



> pls enjoy andy and have a happy fuckin new year

“Shirabu Kenjirou is…” Chikara begins, motioning his hands in the pitch black room to prompt his fellow ex-captains. 

“A communist!” Kenji exclaims. 

Kenjirou intends to throw his shoe at Kenji in response, but he ends up hitting Shigeru, who then answers, “A cuntlord. What the fuck?” Shigeru throws the shoe back at Kenjirou, or so he thinks. It hits Kiyoomi. 

“If Shirabu is the cuntlord, then Yahaba is the cuntking,” Kiyoomi utters with his deep, irritated voice. He proceeds to pacifistically hand the shoe back to Kenjirou.

“If Yahaba’s the king, who’s his queen?” Keiji ponders, but before anyone can answer, the tune of Aqua’s “Barbie Girl” sounds loudly next to Keiji. “Atsumu,” Keiji nudges at his boyfriend’s leg, crossed over his own. It lies limp, so Keiji shakes his shoulders. “Atsumu, wake up.” 

“Atsumu, your phone is ringing!” Yuuji singsongs before he takes the liberty of licking Atsumu’s ear.

And at last, Atsumu jolts awake. “Why is my ear wet?”

“What are you talking about?” Chikara and Keiji ask in unison. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Yuuji pipes, and he cups his hands around Atsumu’s ear while Atsumu declines the phone call. “Hey, li’l mama lemme whisper in ya ear,” he whispers and proceeds to blow. 

Naturally, when one just wakes up from an hour-long nap, he is distraught. He is tired, and he is done. So, Atsumu yelps, and he accidentally kicks his boyfriend’s leg in the process. 

“Atsumu, go back to sleep. You’re annoy—” Keiji is cut off by his boyfriend. 

“I’m _not_!”

“And here I was, thinking this whole ‘talking in turns thing’ might work out until Kourai and Taketora arrived,” Chikara sighs, mostly to himself, but Kiyoomi silently agrees. 

“What are they doing that they’re too busy to meet us at two in the afternoon in Yuuji’s frat’s basement anyway,” Kenji scoffs and rolls his eyes. He says he’s being ironic. He is not. 

When Taketora and Kourai bust in through the door, light pools in, and Kourai tumbles down the stairs. His heavy yet fun-sized body lands on Shigeru’s lap, and Shigeru, for whatever reason, decides to pet him like a dog as Taketora closes the basement door and walks down with them. 

“Alright, roll call!” Chikara says with his Commanding Captainy Voice. “Akaashi Keiji.”

“Here.”

“Futakuchi Kenji”

“Aquí.” 

“Hoshiumi Kourai” 

“Here!”

“Miya Atsumu.”

“Here.”

“Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

“Unfortunately here.”

“Shirabu Kenjirou.”

“What Sakusa said.”

“Terushima Yuuji.”

“Sup.”

“Yahaba Shigeru.”

“Here.” 

“Yamamoto Taketora.” 

“Here!”

Chikara pulls out a flashlight and shines it on his face as if he’s about to tell a ghost story. “Some of you don’t know why we’re here today,” Chikara begins. 

“Isn’t it to all be friends and be happy and maybe party just like in high school?” Kourai asks, sitting up. Yahaba whimpers at the loss of his pet. 

“No,” Chikara shuts down. “Earlier in the week, Kenji was in my room, and he—”

“Since when do you call him Kenji?” Yuuji wiggles his eyebrows. 

“And since when does he go to your room?” Kenjirou asks with a devilish smirk. 

“Shut up, that’s not important. What’s important is what Kenji shared with me.”

“His dick,” Yuuji pretends to cough; he is consequently hit in the head with Kenji’s shoe. Chikara’s face flushes. 

“We discovered that our good friend — you know, the other ex-captain who joined our group chat later our senior year and isn’t here right now — has a shitpost account on Twitter, and we’re hoping to stage an intervention,” Chikara uses the gravest of voices he has. 

“Wait, so, like, you guys didn’t know about Usuri’s shitpost account?” Atsumu asks with his Dumb Blond Voice and immediately receives nine accusatory glares. 

“You didn’t tell us?” Kenji’s eyes are betrayed. Yuuji pouts in the corner. 

“We’re not best bros anymore,” Taketora declares. 

“His handle is cumslutlord9000 on Twitter; I can't believe you guys didn’t know.” 

“Nobody searches cumslut when they’re trying to find Michiru on social media, Atsumu,” Keiji reproaches.

“Yeah, we only search that when we’re trying to find Shirabu’s socials,” Kenji adds. The wind is quickly knocked out of him. “It was a compliment!” Kenji defends as he regains breath. 

“Atsumu,” Chikara backtracks, ignoring the whole Shirabu situation, “you have absolutely no problem with Michiru going under the moniker cumslutlord9000 and tweeting ‘@miya_osamu can shove a bulldozer up my ass’ and subsequently tweeting ‘@akaashi.k GOOD MORNING DADDY’ at two in the morning?” 

“I mean, I told him to fuck off of Keiji, and he listened, so, yeah?” Atsumu shrugs. 

“I was wondering why I stopped getting at-ed by cumslutlord9000,” Keiji says, pensive.

Blue light from a blue iPhone 5c fills the room. 

“Ew, you have an iPhone 5?” Shigeru slaps the phone out of Kourai’s hands, and Kourai slaps Shigeru across the face. 

“Yeah, what about it?!”

“Allow me to stop the bullying before it begins!” Chikara takes his gavel and slams it on the wooden floor. 

“Why do you have a gavel?” Taketora asks, taking it and examining it like it’s from mars. 

“For moments like when you fools are about to go on a half-hour tangent telling Kourai he needs to buy a new phone.”

Kiyoomi seems to have found the iPhone 5 because there’s a bright blue rectangle in his giant hand, and he’s scrolling through Twitter. “I found Michiru’s account.”

“Sakusa, I’ll pay you if you read his last ten tweets aloud,” Atsumu offers. 

“Three thousand yen.”

“Sure.”

“One: Miya Osamu, where are you? My feet are waiting for their worship. Two: Just got shit on by a bird. Three: Fuck (with two _c_ ’s) you, Osamu. Wakatsu is my real daddy, anyway. Four: Attached is a picture of a blunt. The caption is: never mind. I-M-Y. Osamu. I see you everywhere I look. Five: change of plans: Just swallowed nun-cum.

“Six: Planned world domination with Carl the squirrel. Watch your fucking back. Seven: Where’s my Vicodin? Osamu hurt my heart again. Eight: God loves me and my messy hole. Nine: Miya Osamu, if you tell me to go bother my friends, _one more time_ I will fuck you up because we both know I don’t have friends. Ten: dear Santa, you’ve failed to bring me a hot boyfriend for Christmas yet again. Unbelievable.” 

Atsumu reaches into his wallet, which is Keiji’s hoodie because he lost his actual wallet and tosses Kiyoomi his money. 

“I never thought I’d hear Sakusa say “my messy hole,” Kenji fails to suppress a grin. 

“Wait!” Hoshiumi cries. “Did you guys just ignore the part where Usuri said he doesn’t have friends? Are we just chopped liver?”

“We must stage an intervention!” Taketora shouts. 

Chikara, quietly, facepalms and nods. 

 

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿ 

 

Michiru sits on a chair in the center of the basement. His legs are tied to it with Yuuji’s red rope, and his hands are restrained with Kenji’s fuzzy pink handcuffs. 

Taketora turns the basement light on, and Kourai removes the bookbag from Michiru’s head. The others stand in a circle around the chair. 

“God, you guys, when you kidnapped me, I thought I was finally going to hell once and for all. How could you let me down like this?” Michiru frowns. 

“Usuri Michiru, we have a bone to pick with you!” Kourai begins by slapping his now-teammate across the face. 

“Where is it?” 

“Tsk tsk t—” 

“Shut up,” Chikara stops Kourai and walks over to meet Michiru. “Michiru, we found out you have a shitpost account.” 

“You guys didn’t know?”

“No, how could we know you go by the name cumslutlord9000?”

“I thought since I used to send Keiji those thirst tweets, you know, before Atsumu got mad at me,” Michiru glares, “he’d go on my page and see all the thirst tweets for Osamu and figure it out and tell you guys.” 

Now, Chikara smacks Michiru across the face. “Stop thirst tweeting Osamu; everyone here knows that he’s in love with Kenjirou.” 

“Yeah, and Kenjirou just got dumped so he needs someone to love him right now,” Yuuji adds, patting Kenjirou on the head. 

“Um, I’ll gladly assume the position of loving Shirabu Kenjirou,” Kenji raises his hand. 

Kenjirou doesn’t answer; he only blushes and wishes the lights were out. 

“Where’s Atsumu, anyway?” Michiru asks. “I’m, like, a hundred percent positive he knew about my Twitter.”

“Here!” Atsumu, holding Keiji’s wrist moves from behind Michiru’s chair to next to Chikara. 

Michiru and Keiji lock eyes, and Atsumu has never seen Michiru smile so wide before (except that time he was convinced he broke this poor soul’s volleyball spirit). “Hi, daddy!”

“Michiru, how many times do I have to tell you, he’s _not_ your daddy!”

“Come on, Atsumu, share. You know he’s just my type; I love a boy who can survive a good ole attempted spirit-crush,” Michiru says, and everyone but Atsumu knows that it’s just to annoy Atsumu. 

“Okay, Keiji and Osamu are so different. I don’t get you,” Atsumu pouts. 

“I’m not picky. Anyway, now that we’ve established that I have a shitpost account, can you guys untie me?”

“So, you’re just okay with us knowing? Completely unashamed?” Chikara asks, pointing his flashlight straight into Michiru’s eyes even though the lights are on. 

“Of course, I’m okay with it. You guys are all my friends.”

“That takes care of the next item of business then,” Keiji says, and he approaches Michiru to untie him, but Atsumu stops him before Michiru has a chance to make a licentious comment.

“Fuck you, Atsumu.” Michiru would send him a kick, but he’s a bit restrained. 

“On behalf of Atsumu, I politely decline.” 

“You guys are such a power couple,” Michiru grins, and Keiji takes that as cue to grab Atsumu’s hand and walk out of the basement. 

“Wow, I feel so loved.”

Chikara finds his gavel and slams it on the floor. “Meeting adjourned!” He leaves as well, and Kiyoomi and Taketora follow. 

Kenjirou nudges Shigeru’s body with his foot. “Yahaba,  
wake up.” 

“Wha?” Shigeru asks, rubbing his eyes. 

“We already established that the shitpost account is Usuri’s, and we’re all friends again. Woohoo.” 

“We are?” Kourai and Shigeru ask in tandem.

“Yeah, Hoshi-man, we’re all friends again!” Yuuji wraps his arm around Kourai’s shoulders. “Let’s go find Taketora again; I heard there’s a day-party at phi kappa psi.” With that, they leave. 

Shigeru gets up with the helping hand of Futakuchi Kenji. “Good morning, sunshine,” Kenji smiles, and if he didn’t just help Shigeru get up, Shigeru probably would have elbowed him. 

“So, is anyone gonna untie me?” Michiru asks, wiggling in his chair. 

“No,” Kenjirou shakes his head, “none of us, at least, but I’ll send Osamu here for you.” 

“You’d do that for me?” Michiru coos. 

“Duh, they're only friends with benefits, and Kenjirou’s so charitable that he doesn’t mind sharing,” Kenji answers, slinging his arm around Kenjirou’s waist, a bit lower than he probably should. His other arm wraps around Shigeru’s shoulders. “Off we go.” 

“Bye, Michiru,” Shigeru gives a tired wave. 

Kenjirou is too flustered to give a goodbye.

 

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

 

It’s nine in the morning, and Michiru wakes up on the uncomfortable, foldable chair in Yuuji’s fraternity’s basement. He can move his hands — he kicks the ground — and his legs, too. He feels something stuck to his forehead, so he rips it off.

It’s a yellow post-it note. 

_Michiru,_

_Don’t take this as a sign of friendship or anything like that, but I felt bad for you, so I came to untie you._

_Osamu_

 

**Chat: The Spice Girls**

(09:12) cumslutlord9000: _Attached image_  
(09:12) cumslutlord9000: my prince fucking came for me ilyguys

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for readin’ y’all love u ❤️❤️❤️❤️😭❤️


End file.
